From London With Love by Jenna Petersen

Author:Jenna Petersen [Petersen, Jenna]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: Romance, Historical
ISBN: 9780060798611
Publisher: Avon
Published: 2006-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Meredith was awake, but didn’t have the energy to open her eyes. She felt too languid. Her body too heavy. Warmth suffused her skin and sated pleasure made her lazy.

She felt…good. And she realized she hadn’t felt that way for a long time. Certainly, she’d been happy. She’d laughed and danced and been thrilled by her work. She thought she’d been satisfied by those experiences, but now she knew that wasn’t so. Until this moment, she hadn’t known the meaning of satisfaction or pleasure.

It was a terrifying realization, and she opened her eyes with shock. But what she looked upon brought her no less shock or pleasure.

Tristan lay on his side next to her. Like her, he wasn’t asleep. But he was watching her. Not touching her, but simply watching, eyes soft with emotions she couldn’t place. White sheets rode low on his hips, making his skin look tanned in the dying firelight. And accentuating each curve of every beautiful muscle on his body.

Without thinking, she lifted her hand to touch his shoulder. She traced the line of his arm, smoothing her hand along his skin and awakening her desire with every stroke of her trembling fingertips.

He smiled at the touch, and when she reached his hand, he caught hers and brought her fingers to his lips for a kiss. Seeing his mouth brush her skin gave her a shiver of anticipation, but she resisted that sensation.

She had to leave.

Surrendering to the emotion that crackled between them was something she refused to regret, but it was a fantasy, nothing more. Pulling away was the only way to keep herself sane and finish this investigation. Pretending she never found release and passion in Tristan’s arms was the only way she could force herself to keep compiling evidence of his guilt.

But doing that was so hard when he rubbed a stubbly cheek against her palm.

“I—I can’t stay,” she whispered, but the statement was too quiet and weak to be believed.

His eyes darkened and he held fast to her hand. “Don’t go.”

She shut her eyes. It was so hard to resist him. Especially when he slipped a hand around her waist and dragged her across the short distance that separated them to hold her against his chest. Their naked skin brushed, and her body reacted of its own accord, just as she felt his body respond to hers.

“Tristan,” she said, fighting to recall her intentions, her duties. “This was…a moment in time. One I shall never forget, but it cannot go further…can it?”

He looked down at her, his eyes nearly black in the dying light. His lips thinned and his brow furrowed, as if he remembered something about the truth of her words. But what? His guilt? His misdeeds?

Her chest tightened, but she couldn’t make herself pull away from his embrace.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he said.

Disappointment flowered inside her, even though he was only making things easier. Gently, she pulled back, but his grip on her waist only tightened, imprisoning her.

“Perhaps we cannot go any further than what we’ve already shared,” he continued.

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